


A Merry Little Christmas

by seamonster



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, In chapter 2, Love Confessions, Non-binary Reader - Freeform, Other, Reader-Insert, Sign Language, Suggestive language, brief appearance of emily in ch 3, christmas themed drabbles, some mild gore mentioned, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamonster/pseuds/seamonster
Summary: Six short drabbles featuring Christmas with six of my favorite characters. Each chapter is a different character, reader type, and set-up.Soldier 76: post-fall, pre-recall; Jack and reader huddle down in a bunker for the holiday.Reaper: post-fall; Reaper does something nice for a Christmas hating Talon reader.Genji: post-recall; Genji and reader open gifts a little early.Zenyatta: post-recall; oblivious reader finally asks Zenyatta on a date.Jesse: pre-fall, blackwatch; Jesse and reader share some feelings after a mission gone awry.Ashe: post-fall probs; Ashe makes sure she's home in time for Christmas.





	1. Gift Exchange (76/reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of holiday fluff in this one. I hope you guys enjoy!

It was pure fate that had you and Jack spending Christmas together. You'd stumbled across the old fallout shelter in a daze of blood loss and freezing temperatures as the storm predicted on the radio rolled in earlier than the meteorologists claimed it would.

 

You were too out of it to notice the slept-in cot or recently discarded trash. You'd pretty much zeroed in on the medical kit and upturned everything in it onto the floor. It all went kind of fuzzy after that, though. You were cold, you were too cold. Your fingers were numb and fumbled with whatever you touched. Then swirling darkness.

 

Then pain.

 

It was a slow building ache, unlike the sharp stabbing burn from before. It throbbed through your muscles and into your head, pulling you reluctantly from slumber's sweet embrace. You were not quick to open your eyes, instead waiting for your hearing and touch to swim back into a semblance of focus.

 

There was cushioning under you, and your fingers and toes were still numb, but this time with just chill. You could hear something being stirred around in a pot. It smelled heavenly and warm.

 

Most importantly, you were alive, so that was pretty cool.

 

“‘Bout time you woke up. I was starting to think I might need to take you to an actual hospital.”

 

The deep rumbling of his voice was almost as much of a relief as the realization that you weren't dead yet.

 

“I'm sure you patched me up just fine.” A cough overtook you at the end of the sentence, throat almost painfully dry. Heavy boots approached and you finally peeled your eyes open to see him offering you a bottle of water.

 

“You're definitely giving me plenty of opportunity to improve my skill.” His voice was unfiltered, visor missing from his frowning face. “How in hell did you get blasted full of holes in the middle of nowhere anyway?”

 

Sitting up hurt like all hell, but he only watched you struggle for a moment before helping. You chugged a good half of the bottle before answering.

 

“Got cheeky with the farmer's daughter.”

 

He didn't seem to appreciate your attempt at humor, only offering an unimpressed grunt in response. You watched him return to cooking on a hotplate at a low table you didn't notice upon your first intrusion.

 

Normally, you'd be fuckin’ flabbergasted that you'd even managed to run into him without trying. But it had become such a commonplace thing over the past year that you'd just stopped questioning why fate kept shoving you together with the old soldier. Though this was definitely the most… obscure place you've bumped into him at. The chances had to be outrageous, but you were never very good at math.

 

In the following quiet, you took stock of your injuries. Jack had patched all your bullet wounds with biotic fluid, though there must have been a limited supply because they were still very tender when you pressed on them. Your twisted ankle was tightly wrapped and bruises littered your skin, but there was no lasting damage. You sipped more water, gaze then wandering to your impromptu nurse.

 

He was bundled up against the chill in the room, focused on whatever he was cooking. Both his and your weapons and body armor were deposited in the corner next to extra rations and more water bottles. It was a pretty bare bomb shelter.

 

It took a few minutes with lots of stretching gingerly, but you slid off the cot to join the man at the table. He looked up at you briefly, then back down to his food.

 

“Smells good,” you commented off-handedly, gaze drawn to an old radio on the table. You made a grab for it.

 

“Stew, nothing special.”

 

“You mind if I?”

 

He shook his head when you held up the radio and you started fiddling with it.

 

“I've just been using it to keep an ear on the news.”

 

You hummed in acknowledgement, flipping between stations, eventually settling on some classic Christmas music.

 

“This okay?”

 

He looked somewhat bewildered at your choice, but shrugged.

 

“Tis the season.”

 

That had you snorting, putting the radio back. “You a fan of Christmas, Jack?”

 

“Used to be.”

 

“And now?”

 

He gave another half-hearted shrug. “It’s just another day.”

 

“Yeah, that's fair.”

 

When the stew was deemed finished, Jack placed the pot near you, settling down to sit at your side and offering you a spoon.

 

“We'll have to share.”

 

You couldn't help the uptick of your lips. “How cozy.”

 

He grunted lightly, but even the shitty yellow lighting overhead couldn't save his flush from your observation.

 

The first spoonful was just as heavenly as it had smelled. Completely bland and perfectly hot, warming your numb digits.

 

“It alright?” A shade of apprehension colored his question and you nodded; scooping up another spoonful and offering it to him.

 

He swallowed a light sound of protest at being fed, eyes on yours. You perked your brow and moved the spoon a little closer. He finally ate it with a small sigh. You waited for him to chew thoughtfully and nod.

 

“Edible.”

 

“Mm-hm.”

 

You kept feeding him, every bite after yourself. He kept trying to half-heartedly steal the spoon from you every time, but you evaded with a smile and a shake of your head. Eventually he gave up and accepted the treatment. It was a comfortable exchange for you. You've shared a lot with Jack over the past year; safehouses, rations, munitions, pain, booze, even occasional laughter. Softly admitted regrets in the dead of night, warmth. Sharing a spoon was just another thing.

 

His eyes stayed on you the entire time, somehow intense yet soft. It made you feel at ease. You, in turn, slowly looked over his scarred face and silver stubble. He had laugh lines that spoke of happier years and scowl lines that were much more familiar to you.

 

Mostly, though, he looked tired. Of everything.

 

The soft crooning of a Christmas duet softly filtered through the radio and you met his eyes again.

 

Without questioning the impulse, you leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Feeling his stubble against your lips chased a thrill through you, making you smile as you pulled back again. Though his expression didn't change, his ears and face turned a blotchy pink. He had to swallow thickly before he could speak.

 

“What was that for?”

 

You smiled wider, putting the spoon down by the mostly empty pot.

 

“Merry Christmas, Jack.”

 

He looked like he wanted to say something, but settled for a nod, finally tearing his gaze away from you.

 

“What, nothing for me?” You teased.

 

Just a tease; you really weren't expecting his hand on the side of your neck to pull you closer, or his lips on yours. Neither shy nor hesitant, Jack kissed you like he fucking meant it. Like he may never get another chance. He gently urged your lips to part and shared the aftertaste of dinner and adoration between you, tongue almost shy compared to his lips. It was swiftly intoxicating and over far too soon.

 

You were both a little breathless when you parted, heart hammering in your throat.

 

“Oh,” was all you managed to get out. Jack had no idea what to say, the song on the radio changing. Your fingertips brushed over scarred knuckles as you placed your hand over his. His eyebrows perked up in question, so you swallowed your nerves and said, “I think I'd like to return my present.”


	2. Winter Wonderland (Reaper/reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is a doctor working for Talon, completely oblivious to the fact that they've caught the eye of one of the organization's deadliest members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP in advance if you don't dislike Christmas. (I love Christmas, so it hurt my soul to do this.) Enjoy!

You hadn’t intended to celebrate Christmas because you literally never did. Holidays were just excuses for people to spend money and eat a lot of food. You weren’t a fan of shopping and ate all you wanted all the time, you didn’t need seasonal permission to enjoy the foods you liked.

 

Winter, on the other hand, was something you did enjoy. The quiet, muffled sounds of snow and the insidious chill that lurked at the edge of every heater’s radius. A silent promise of deadly sleep wrapped in glittering ice. It was beautiful. It was, without doubt, your favorite season.

 

You just wished you could see it from inside your lab. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Having windows to the outside world so you could admire the frozen grasp of the season in between your… ‘clients’. But you understood why Talon had chosen to put your lab beneath ground level. It would be unfortunate for some passersby to glance in a window and get a first hand look at your work. They’d probably lose recruits that way. No one wants to know they work in the same building as a “psycho doctor”, as Sombra has taken to lovingly calling you. (At least, you think it’s loving. You’re not entirely certain.)

 

It all just meant you’d have to take periodic breaks from your work to head upstairs and take a look. You don’t mind the cold at all, especially bundled up in a coat and gloves. The fresh air was frosty and comforting, even as your nose blushed red. It was almost as exhilarating as blood-letting.

 

However, the closer it drew to Christmas, the less you found yourself leaving your lab. Some agents took to putting up decorations, and lights. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it _was_ all far too cheerful and self-gratifying for you. You’re pretty sure you heard the words, “secret santa” in the commissary. It’s like a nightmare, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

 

“I just don’t understand the appeal. Do people really have to make up reasons to go see the people they love?” You muttered to yourself as you drew toxin samples into various syringes. “And don’t even get me started on the presents. The whole holiday is just disgustingly contrived.”

 

With the syringes lined up perfectly on the tray, you wheeled them over to the chair in the middle of your lab. To the man strapped into your chair. He was completely restrained and gagged, dozens of wires and sensors attached to his exposed skin. It was cold in the lab and he shivered, but you paid it no mind. You simply made a mental note to take that variable into account later as you’re analyzing the data.

 

“If I want to go see someone, I go see them. If I want something, I buy it. We should be celebrating things much more worthy of the adoration. Imagine what could be cured by now if all the money humanity spends on _Christmas_ was spent on research instead.”

 

You had just administered the first toxin when a knock interrupted your one-sided tirade. A knock on the door, to be specific. Which surprised you, because you knew for certain that you turned the ‘testing-in-progress’ alert on at your door. You had to tug your face mask down to speak into the intercom.

 

“I’m in the middle of something.”

 

No answer, so you shrugged and went back to your test subject, making note of any changes and reactions. With your back turned, you didn’t notice the black smoke seep under your door. It formed itself into a tall, imposing figure just outside of the plastic sheet walls of the containment room you were working in. He watched and waited patiently for you to make your notes and observations, dosing the man with toxin after toxin, watching him writhe and moan in pain.

 

Eventually, though, his patience did run out.

 

“Doctor.”

 

You jumped so hard that you nearly dropped your datapad, an embarrassingly squeaky sound escaping you.

 

“Would you mind…” you pulled apart the edges of two plastic walls to step out, tugging your mask down to cover your chin, “ _not_ doing that, please?”

 

“I did knock.”

 

“And I told you I was busy.”

 

You knew he didn’t care, though. Reaper was on the council, his ranking in the organization was much higher than yours. He’d continue to do as he liked, even if that meant startling the life out of you every time he came into the lab. You absentmindedly brushed barely-there wrinkles out of your lab coat before offering him what you hoped was a friendly expression.

 

“How can I help you, sir?”

 

No answer came right away, instead he stared at you through that impassive mask and it was your turn to be patient. The only sounds in the lab were whimpers of untold agony, you were just glad it was all being recorded since you were no longer watching first-hand.

 

“...Nevermind.”

 

Reaper suddenly dissolved into his wraith form and slipped right back out of the lab, like he’d never been there to begin with. Leaving you almost gaping after him.

 

-

 

The first time Reaper did that was odd (and frustrating, since he’d interrupted an experiment to do it), the second time left you feeling more baffled than the first. He didn’t come to your lab, but caught you in the hall between toxicology and the blood lab. He stood directly in your path and waited for you to almost run right into him, engrossed in your notes as you’d been. When you asked him if he needed anything, he handed you something sharply cold.

 

It was the broken-off end of an icicle, melting slowly in your palm. You tried to ask him for an explanation but he was already stalking off down the hall towards the lifts, and his stride was quicker than yours.

 

Two days later, someone left a fistful of snow in a beaker on your desk. There was a frozen spider at its center.

 

Reaper carried on like that for almost two weeks. At least, you assumed the random icicles and piles of snow were from him. Especially since he kept coming back to your lab to do nothing but silently observe from the other side of the plastic. You were unnerved at first, but soon became too busy to care how Reaper chose to spend his free time.

 

Your experiments were going quite well. Your test subject managed to stay alive much longer than projected. Until his head exploded, of course, splattering you in blood and brain matter. Which was gross. Enlightening! But definitely gross.

 

You bagged your clothes for testing and washed off in the bio-hazard shower. You could swear that you weren't in there for very long, but when you were done, there were clothes waiting for you on the bench that hadn't been there before. Your clothes, including your winter coat. You weren't ready to leave though, you still had a mess to clean up and samples to run. It was strange.

 

-

 

As Christmas drew very near, you withdrew even more adamantly into your work. Reaper didn't come around for a few days, probably off doing whatever it was he did. Killing? Most likely. Your days began to slur together as you'd taken to sleeping in your lab as well, having your meals delivered so you'd see as little holly and garland as possible.

  


When Reaper smoked his way into the room on Christmas Eve, he found you slumped over your desk, a half-finished report on screen as you dozed.

 

He hesitated waking you up. You always worked way too much, the perpetual bruise-colored bags under your eyes a testament to your work ethic and lack of self preservation. It was… admirable, if not perplexing. It's not like your job was at risk, he'd ensured that you always had council permission to lead your own research, to whatever ends. You didn't need to push yourself quite so hard. You'd barely left your lab in weeks.

 

He was going to force you to take a break. It had clearly come down to it. You'd resisted every little temptation he'd left for you. He knew you liked winter weather, the fresh air would do you good. (You also looked beautiful bundled up in your coat, nose pink and smiling softly at nature's wonder.)

 

It only took one, firm clap to your shoulder for you to jerk upright and exclaim something about “fasciitis!”

  


You blinked sleep away, stretching with blurry eyes before you realized what had woken you.

 

“Sorry, didn't hear you come in.” You never did. “Did you need something?”

 

“Yes.” That was a rare answer.

 

“If it's about the guy with the explodey head, I'm almost done with the report.”

 

“It's not that, doctor. I need you to come with me.”

 

It took a moment for that to really process with you. Go somewhere? With Reaper? Oh this couldn't be good.

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“Bring your coat,” he grumbled on his way out the door. Now that was curious.

 

You scrambled to grab your things and catch up to him. The halls around the labs were mostly deserted, which was surreal, but as soon as the lift doors opened to ground level, you knew why.

 

It was a Christmas party. A huge, raging Christmas party. You'd never seen Talon agents so drunk and… merry. Loud music spilled out of a nearby conference room, but you still heard Reaper's growl of displeasure.

 

“C'mon.”

 

For a moment, you were terrified he was going to force you to attend the party, but he headed in the opposite direction. Even drunk, the agents stayed clear of his path, so you stuck close behind. Not realizing that they gave you just as wide of a berth.

 

Until a loud voice cut through the din.

 

“Feliz navidad!”

 

Sombra’s camouflage dropped as she assaulted you both in horrible confetti shaped like tiny pine trees and shepherd hooks.

 

“The party just started, Gabe! Where are you going?”

 

Her smile was mischievous, but you missed the way she glanced to you and waggled her eyebrows at Reaper. His name was Gabe?

 

He rumbled something you didn't catch and put a hand on your shoulder to drag you onward, ignoring the way Sombra cackled and disappeared again.

 

He gave you enough time to put your coat and gloves on before you both headed outside, where it was _much_ quieter. A hard chill slapped any leftover sleep right out of you and you breathed in deep.

 

A thick blanket of snow covered the compound, mostly undisturbed as of yet. It must have fallen earlier that day. Reaper clearly had no reservations about marching right through it, because he did. He turned only once to make sure you were following him.

 

Confusion deepened when you realized he was leading you into the forest.

 

“Where _are_ we going?”

 

“You'll see,” was your only answer.

 

Common sense stated that following known killers into a dark forest at night was a bad idea. But you weren't afraid so much as curious. You'd never seen Reaper act like this before, and it wasn't like the walk was unpleasant. In fact, it was very soothing.

 

Eventually, he stopped your winter hike and turned to face you. You waited out his hesitation with a small, genuine smile.

 

“...Close your eyes.”

 

His tone was much softer than you were used to, all bite drained out of it. It made something funny flutter around in your guts. You watched him closely for a moment and decided, why not?

 

You slowly complied.

 

A hand slid into yours. Not a clawed gauntlet, a human hand. It lacked warmth, but held yours with clear tenderness as he pulled you further along through the snow. When you stopped again, the quiet rushed into your ears, the sound of peace all around you.

 

“Open.”

 

The hand in yours disappeared as you obeyed the softly spoken command, but your attention was caught on something else.

 

He'd led you higher up than you thought, to a short ledge overlooking a valley that sparkled in the moonlight. Icicles adorned every tree, casting the fragmented light in dancing waves over the powdered hills and slopes. It was beyond breathtaking. The stars dusted the sky like a dream.

 

“This…” you breathed, smile pulling your lips, “this is lovely.”

 

You could feel Reaper move up next to you again.

 

“I was getting worried you were trying to trick me into celebrating Christmas,” you said it with a laugh, and were surprised when he chuckled, too.

 

“You hate Christmas.”

 

“I do, but this. This I love.”

 

“...I know.”

 

There was something in the way he said it that had you turning to face him. His mask betrayed nothing, but his shoulders were off.

 

“What is it?”

 

He seemed to make a decision, whatever his dilemma had been. Squaring up, he pushed his hood back and slowly slid the mask up and off.

 

You weren't sure how many people in Talon had seen his face. No one you knew. Except yourself now. You were unsure of why he was so adamant about hiding it, though. Sure, most people didn’t have nanites working tirelessly to repair damage almost as quickly as the decay, and most human folk didn’t have black sclera and burning red irises, but it was hardly unsightly. You’ve seen much, much worse.

 

He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, though you were unsure of what kind. So you smiled a little wider.

 

“Thank you for this, Reaper.”

 

His tense shoulders relaxed, something like relief passing through his eyes. It was a strange impulse, but you found his hand again and interlocked your fingers.

 

In the muted quiet, you heard him murmur, “call me Gabe.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: IF YOU GUYS LIKE THIS CHAPTER, then you might want to check out my oneshot collection, Dabble in Drabbles!! I've continued this particular story line in a series of chapters called, "Alexithymia".


	3. Sweet Silent Night (Genji/reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and reader exchange gifts a little early. It's just a lot of fluff tbh. Reader is mute, not deaf.

It wasn't much, as far as decorations go. The tree Winston found was modest, but made up for its size in the sheer amount and variety of ornaments. Everyone had pitched in, hanging bulbs and baubles from their homes. It was colorful and absolutely perfect. You couldn't help admiring it quietly from the corner. 

 

Everyone else had gone to their rooms for the night. It was pretty late after all. Everyone except you. 

 

Sleep was a… commodity for you; rare and wonderful and not on your Christmas wish list. You preferred night over day anyway, it was easier on your sensitive eyes. So you sipped your cocoa and watched the lights on the tree twinkle. 

 

The pile of presents under the tree was just as modest given that most of the recalled agents had gone home for the actual holidays. Only a few of you remained and, well, it wasn't like vigilante work paid all that well. Hell, you and Jesse had been taking on contract work under the radar just to help keep food and medical supplies on base. 

 

It was worth it, though. To you. 

 

“You know Santa won't come if you are awake.”

 

Your soft smile widened as you looked up to find a familiar face in the doorway. Genji had foregone his helm, but the lights on his torso still glowed red and green. He was clearly hiding something behind his back as he wandered over to you. You put your mug down, freeing your hands to speak.

 

“You're one to talk,” your expression was clearly mischievous, making him laugh.

 

“Fair, I don't think we're on the top of his nice list anyway.”

 

You had to quickly scoop your mug back up and shove yourself into the corner of the armchair to make room for your boyfriend to join you. He put whatever he was hiding down out of your line of sight.

 

“Share,” he playfully demanded, eyeing your cocoa. You looked at him pointedly and took a long, loud sip. “C'mooon.”

 

He scooped you up into his lap, almost causing you to spill. He fluttered little kisses on your cheeks and nose until you let him share in your beverage.

 

“Mm, you always make it the best.”

 

You allowed him to hold the mug for both of you, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips with a breathy sigh. One kiss became two, then nibbles and the taste of chocolate and cream on each other's tongues.

 

“I love you,” Genji whispered against your lips and you absolutely melted in his arms. Like you always did. You mouthed the words back, making sure he felt it. His smitten grin told you he did.

 

You slipped into a comfortable silence after that, taking turns sipping cocoa and holding each other close, not taking a single peaceful moment together for granted. 

 

When the cocoa was almost gone, Genji nuzzled your cheek and asked, “may we exchange gifts tonight? You and I?”

 

You pointed at him, then made a palms-up grabbing motion towards yourself.

 

_ “Yosh _ .”

 

With a cheeky grin, he gave your bum a pat as you got up. Your gift for him was under the tree already, a small box wrapped in metallic green. He joined you, sitting cross-legged in front of each other.

 

His expression was that of an excited kid, yet he peeled the paper off his gift with care. Inside the box was a  _ very _ detailed dragon made entirely out of sugar and painted in food dye. You didn't make it yourself, but you'd hovered annoyingly over the confectioner who had. It's resemblance was as close as possible to his spirit dragon. He stared at it in wordless awe before he squeaked out, “I can never eat this.”

 

You laughed, air bubbling quietly out of you in breathy puffs accentuated by the soft popping of your throat.

 

“Thank you,” he leaned in for a chaste kiss.

 

He had two gifts for you, both small in size and wrapped in your favorite color. The first turned out to be a slim photo album, ten or so pages. Inside was full of photos of the two of you, along with other agents of the recall. Fond memories from days off or moments of victory. They'd quickly become like a family to you, even going as far as to teach themselves sign language to limit how often you had to utilize Athena’s translation program. You gave Genji a watery smile, touching the tips of your fingers to your chin and motioning away.

 

“You’re very welcome.”

 

The second gift was a gag, from glassy eyes to snorting laughter out of you both.

 

“Put it on!”

 

“Are you sure this is for me? Or you?” You asked, brows perked, grin on your lips. You put the headband on anyway and let the sprig of plastic mistletoe dangle from a wire between you like a deep-water prey fish.

 

“Definitely you,” Genji waggled his eyebrows, already leaning in to kiss you again, and again, and again. Lips, nose, cheeks, eyelids; he kissed all over your face until you were a giggling mess, trying to lean back away from the affectionate assault. He followed, until you fell upon your back with him crawling over you.

 

He finally let you catch your composure, smiling down at you with so much tenderness that your heart fluttered. The lights from the tree reflected like glittering stars on his armor plating, like the constellations in his dark eyes. He was so beautiful, and you were so damn lucky.

 

The sound of light footsteps had you both turning towards the door, where a certain red-headed woman was bashfully entering, a few presents in her arms.

 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m not quite as good at sneaking as you lot are.”

 

Genji chuckled as he sat up, tugging you with him.

 

“No worries, Miss Emily. You are welcome everywhere on base.”

 

Lena’s girlfriend was sweet, putting her gifts under the tree with an apologetic smile and quickly absconding. But before she completely left, she poked her head back into the room to whisper, “you two make an adorable couple.”

 

“Hear that?” Genji held you close. “We’re adorable.”

 

“You’re the adorable one.”

 

“You are also adorable. The baffled face you make every time Jesse uses one of his colorful, country idioms is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

You only turn a little pink, papping his chest with both hands until he lets you go, laughing good-naturedly. 

 

“We should retire, I think; it’s very late.” You helped each other stand, not forgetting your gifts and trash. “Besides, I have one more present for you.”

 

A sneaky hand slid over your bum for an appreciative squeeze.

 

You dropped your gaze to half-lid and tucked the photo album under your arm to innocently ask, “is it wrapped with a bow?”

 

Genji responded with a devastatingly handsome smirk. He leaned in to press a kiss against the long, raised scar on your neck, then murmured in you ear, “Come to my room and find out.”


	4. Holly Jolly (Zenyatta/reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat oblivious reader finally asks the cutest omnic on base out on a date, at the urging of their best friend.

“No fair!”

 

You laughed loudly as Hana struggled in your hold, holding her down to the mat long enough for Athena to reach a victorious three count. Her hair was falling out of its bun and she fumed with a pout once you let her up.

 

“You're not even wearing your armor, why are you so much stronger than me?”

 

“I dunno, man. Yoga?”

 

She snatched the cold water bottle you offered, grumbling, “I do yoga, too.”

 

You laughed some more. “You mean, you _try_ to do yoga, get bored after fifteen minutes, then go do something else?”

 

“I just prefer kickboxing, okay?” She finally dropped her pout and you both caught your breath, looking out the large training room window to the gently falling snow outside.

 

“Being on duty for the holidays suuuucks.”

 

“I thought you were going home for New Years?”

 

You and Hana made your way off the mat, wiping sweat away with cool towels.

 

“Yeah, but it sucked to tell my parents I wouldn't be home for Christmas.”

 

“Ah, yeah.” It was a necessary evil, though. Crime doesn't take holidays and all that.  “Winston and Lena have been putting decorations together, though. I think it'll be nice to spend Christmas as a team.”

 

“I guess you're right. It's pretty crazy here, but everyone's been really nice so far. Want to hit the showers?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Hana was undoubtedly your best friend on base. You both arrived around the same time and bonded over your mutual tank class fighting styles. She was a sweet person, but she had a mischievous side as well. Which made itself known while you rinsed off in the communal showers.

 

“So, what'd you get for the monk?”

 

You paused, still scrubbing shampoo through your hair.

 

“What?”

 

“For Christmas? I assume you got him something, you only ogle him every day.”

 

“I! Do not ogle him!” Your face flashed bright pink, though, betraying you.

 

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

 

“He just! Has a nice design!”

 

Her smarmy grin told you that your grave was only getting deeper.

 

Okay so maybe you weren't as subtle about your crush as you thought you were. But you couldn't help it! Zenyatta was just such a sweet person; kind and considerate of everyone. He always seemed to know just what to say and, well, your crush was understandable. Frankly, you were surprised that more people on base didn't feel the same way. (He also had the cutest goddamn laugh you'd ever heard.)

 

“Soooo?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Hana laughed, shoving your head under the spray of water.

 

“What did you get him?”

 

You sputtered, quickly rinsing and splashing suds at her. Finally you admitted, “nothing.”

 

“What, why?”

 

“I asked him what he might like and he said something about the allure of material possessions not appealing to him. That my company was enough of a gift.” You let your shoulders slump but Hana drew in a sharp, excited gasp, twirling you around.

 

“So you're going on a date with him!?”

 

“Wh- what?” Your mind immediately traced back to that conversation, to the warmth in Zenyatta's tone, the gentle hand he brushed over yours. You were aghast. “Do you think that's what he meant!?"

 

“Of course it is, dummy! He has a crush on you, too!”

 

THAT knocked the air right out of you.

 

“He.. n-”

 

“Don't say no, because he totally does. Haven't you noticed? Everyone else has.”

 

When you just looked at her, dumbstruck, Hana heaved a dramatic sigh. “You're so lucky we're friends. _Yes_ , he has a crush on you. How else do you explain him always joining us for breakfast when he doesn't eat? Brewing your favorite tea for you after long days? The constant watch he keeps on you during missions? Hell, he _volunteers_ for missions he knows you're going to be on. Probably because you literally throw yourself in front of danger on a regular basis, and it scares the life out of him.”

 

“That's what the armor is for-” you tried to interject weakly, but Hana was having none of it.

 

“He. Likes. You. Even though you're crazy and willingly turn yourself into a magnet for enemy fire. It's adorable, you _need to do something about it!”_

 

You were very red in the face by the time she was finished, even more so when someone else joined you in the showers.

 

“You two are very lively today.”

 

“Ah, sorry Doctor Zhou.”

 

-

 

Hana's words were all you could think about for the rest of the day, made all the worse when you bumped into Zenyatta in the rec room after dinner. You were absolutely stuffed to the gills, Reinhardt and Brigitte had really gone all out with the food and everything had been delicious.

 

“Merry Christmas Eve to you,” Zenyatta greeted you warmly and you noticed for the first time that he'd always had a habit of standing just a touch closer to you than what was necessary.

 

“Merry Christmas, Zen.” You tried not to fumble your words, already flustered.

 

“Did you enjoy dinner?”

 

“I did, thank you… for making my eggnog. That was very sweet of you, you didn't need to.”

 

“But I wanted to. I'm glad you liked it.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Behind him, you noticed Hana and Genji enter the room. They both saw you and Hana immediately and obviously started mouthing, “ASK HIM ON A DATE.”

 

Genji realized what she was saying and started nodding furiously.

 

“Say, um, Zen…”

 

“Yes?” He asked softly, taking half a step closer to you. You swallowed your nerves hard.

 

“Would you like to take a walk? With me? Just around base, I mean, but, it could be nice to-”

 

“I'd love to,” he sounded oddly breathless, but you weren't focused on that because his hand was sliding into yours and was his face always so cute? (It was.)

 

“...Nice.” You let out a slow breath, lacing your fingers with his.

 

You completely ignored the two idiots doing quiet victory dances in the doorway.


	5. Kissing Santa Claus (McCree/reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an op on Christmas Eve goes hilariously awry, Jesse finds the courage to finally let something off his chest.

Your eardrums throbbed painfully, the dull roaring of your blood flowing like living lava through your skull was the only sound you could hear for several long moments, laced with a high whining tinny. But that was good, it meant you'd survived. The pain was good.

 

And hell was there pain. It came to you in slow waves as your brain reconnected with your body. Your shoulder was dislocated, several ribs bruised at the very least, maybe even a few fractured. All of your muscles ached from strain and abuse. You couldn't currently feel any flesh wounds, but you had no doubts of their existence.

 

Your head was the worst, but you forced your eyes to peel open anyway. Everything was blurred together in a mess of thick smoke and ash, but details began sharpening into view the more you blinked up at the ceiling now void of its tiles.

 

After a few moments of gaining your bearings back, you looked down at yourself. One of the bells was missing from the curled toes of your shoes and there were rips up and down your tights, framing bloody scratches. Your short, green romper was a mess and you were sure the cute matching hat with pointy ears was lost forever. Damn those Talon bastards. Who did they think they were anyway, blowing up their own operation? That was supposed to be _your_ job, dammit.

 

Distantly, you thought you heard a familiar voice call your name, so you responded with a garbled groan of some kind. Whatever, it was sound. Enough of a sound that Jesse eventually shambled through the door in a tattered, bloody red suit, the white fur turned grey with ash. You were pretty impressed that the fake beard was still hanging around his neck, that it had survived at all.

 

Jesse let his arm drop, pointing Peacekeeper to the floor while he slumped against the ruined door frame.

 

“Well, that coulda gone better.”

 

You could taste the dust scratch your already bloody throat as you rasped out a sarcastic, “no shit.”

 

“Damn, darlin’” Jesse holstered his gun, starting to pick his way through the debris and dead bodies towards you. “Ya look about as crap as I feel. Anythin’ broken?”

 

“Don’t think so.” He was careful helping you up anyway, mindful of the arm dangling uselessly at your side. The world wobbled, your head feeling heavy and off-kilter, but Jesse was there to steady you until the room stopped spinning.

 

“Easy does it, sorry ‘bout this.”

 

Before you could ask what he meant, he quickly popped your shoulder back in to place with a light crack. Your yelp of pain was muffled behind your teeth, working hand punching him in the side on instinct. He grunted softly, jaw tightening, but said nothing, even though you mumbled a soft apology through your pain.

 

“We should get outta here before the cops show up. I checked bodies on the way here, they've all taken cyanide capsules. Ain't no one left.”

 

You let him keep you steady as you both stumbled through the wrecked office building.

 

“Anything off their servers?” You asked, trying to swallow the dust coating your throat.

 

Jesse just shook his head. “Completely fried. Whatever they're hidin’, they're mighty keen on keepin’ it away from us.”

 

You cleared the site before sirens arrived, moving back into the city streets. It's was late Christmas Eve, so foot traffic was thankfully low. Fewer people to witness the mess you two made as you boarded a subway to take you to the far side of the city, where a dropship was waiting.

 

Jesse was still being mindful of you, almost fussing as he checked you over in the empty car.

 

“Jess, I'm fine, seriously. Just a hell of a headache.” Concussion was actually more likely.

 

“I know, darlin’, but let me worry over you a bit. Already scared the hell out of me when we got separated in there, then everything started blowin’ ta hell.”

 

He used the edge of his sleeve to wipe blood off your forehead, a look of concentration on his own dirty face.

 

Jesse was a good mission partner. You could always depend on him to have your back in just about any situation. Even when those situations were your fault. He was also a good friend. He made it evident in a hundred little ways that he cared about you, on and off the field. It made you feel warm, fuzzy things in your chest whenever he got like this. Warm, fuzzy things that were more dangerous than the explosive chemicals in your workshop.

 

At some point, two more passengers joined you in the metro car. Jesse had already tried to offer you his horribly dirty Santa coat, but you'd turned it down. The little girl sat with her dad but stared at the two of you with eyes full of wonder.

 

“Santa?”

 

Jesse didn't look up at first, forgetting who he was dressed as. She had to repeat herself loudly.

 

“Santa!”

 

“Carlie, hush,” her father scolded quietly, but Jesse finally looked up.

 

“Santa, why… are you on da subway?”

 

Jesse only froze for a second, then tossed you a wink and tugged the tattered beard up over his goatee.

 

“Well, Carlie, my reindeer ain't feelin’ so good right now.” He didn't even try to hide his accent.

 

She looked the both of you over and asked, “why you covered in blood, Santa?”

 

That had Jesse faltering. “Well, uh, y'see-”

 

“Prancer gave birth, sweetie,” you cut in with a smile, leaning around Jesse to see her better. “She had a baby and Santa had to help the doctor deliver it.”

 

If anything, she lit up more, despite her father eyeing the two of you warily now that his daughter brought attention to the suspicious red stains on your clothes. Before you and Jesse disembarked, she insisted on giving you both candy canes. “For the baby.” It was sweet.

 

-

 

Reyes sized you both up once you touched down back at base. You hadn't changed clothes in the dropship. Neither of you were expecting to get blown up personally and had already decided to wear your costumes all night in the spirit of the season, so you hadn’t brought a change of clothes with you.

 

You could tell by the tight set of his lips and bobbing throat that he was trying not to laugh.

 

“Report.”

 

“Mission successful, sir. Mostly.”

 

“Mostly?” He repeated, the humor in his face gone just like that.

 

Jesse shifted his weight. “We failed to recover anythin’ from their drives, boss.”

 

Reyes nodded, looking thoughtful. He waved it off, though.

 

“Well done, agents. I think you've earned the rest of the holidays off. However,” he paused to smile. “I'd consider patching and freshening up before you head to what's left of the Christmas party.”

 

Jesse let out a low whistle, checking the time. “That thing still goin’ on?”

 

“It's gotten to your favorite part, kid; everyone's drunk.”

  


You tried to head to your room to change like Reyes suggested, but Jesse caught your arm in a firm grip and marched you to the medbay instead. You got looks and giggles the whole way. A few, “howdy, Santa”s from staff also dressed in cute little costumes, giving McCree playful smiles. He took it all in stride with a smile and an awkward tip of his Santa hat.

 

The on-duty nurse patched both of you of your cuts and bruises, and some time in a biotic field really helped ease your aching ribs. You surprisingly didn't have a concussion, but the nurse did ask you to take it easy for a few days.

 

All in all, you were alright. Still a little miffed that Talon had managed to turn the tables on you with your own explosives, but fine. Nothing wrong with a learning experience.

 

“You ready to go to that party?” You asked, once the nurse dismissed you. The medbay was so weirdly quiet with most of the staff absent.

 

Jesse walked along beside you, glancing up and around and the decorations every so often.

 

“I reckon, but I don't think drinkin’ is a good idea for you tonight.”

 

You had to admit that you agreed. Your head already felt sluggish. “Not planning to. So I can be your responsible sober friend tonight if you want?”

 

His lips ticked up in a brief smile as he slowed to a stop in the middle of the hall. You naturally followed suit.

 

“Nah, I don't think I'm much in the mood for drinkin’ either, sweet pea.”

 

Jesse? Not wanting to drink? You tilted your head the slightest bit. He'd been acting a little bit… off since you left the Talon office. Almost subdued.

 

“Everything alright, Jess? You have something on your mind?”

 

Again, a ghost of a smile haunted his face as he looked at you, eyes warm.

 

“Yer sweet to worry about me, darlin’. ...Yeah I suppose I got somethin’ on my mind.”

 

There was no one else in the hallway, and the sound of on-duty nurses was distant.

 

“You want to talk about it?”

 

Jesse looked at you for a little while longer, gaze drifting over your features like he was trying to memorize the map of your skin. Finally, he tore his eyes away and cleared his throat. One of his big, warm hands found one of yours and held it tenderly.

 

“I know we're friends, darlin’, and I'm mighty prouda that. You mean a lot to me and I'm damn honored to be able to work with ya.”

 

Your face warmed a little with surprise. The warm, fuzzy feeling that lived in your chest whenever Jesse was around seemed to grow bigger, even as his voice grew softer.

 

“...But I still can't help but wishin’ we were more than friends. I know it's unprofessional of me, an’ you ain't gotta return my feelings, this ain't about that.”

 

You watched with widening eyes as Jesse began to fluster, his hold on your hand tightening just a little, so you squeezed back. Was he really saying…? What you thought he was??

 

“I know I'm a natural flirt, but you matter a whole lot more to me than just some cheeky pick-up lines, so I wanted to tell you proper.”

 

His eyes met yours again and air left your lungs. He was serious.

 

“Darlin’, I like you. A lot. I might even love you; at least,... I'd like to--”

 

You'd never kissed someone so quickly in your life. And while it blind-sided him, Jesse was quick to respond, kissing you back with as much enthusiasm. His lips were surprisingly soft, eager in the way they melded with yours. Your noses bumped only once, which he was quick to correct, arm winding around your waist to hold you close as he nibbled your lip and brushed over your tongue. It was slow, passionate. Jesse kissed like he had something to prove and all the time in the world to prove it, your heart trembled for it.

 

“Jess,” you gasped softly when you finally pulled apart. You felt a tremor go through him, forehead pressing to yours. It took you a moment to catch your breath, and sanity. A moment for a smile to spread across your face. “I'd like to love you, too.”

 

His grin was broad and infectious as he squeezed you closer against him, gentle kisses being pressed to your cheeks and nose.

 

“Babydoll, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

 

A short chuckle worked itself out of you and you gladly looped your arm over his shoulders to murmur against his lips, “oh, I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on this one, yo. had some company over. only one more to go!


	6. Home For Christmas (Ashe/reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe makes sure she'd home in time to spend Christmas with her spouse.

The Desert Rose Ranch wasn't visible from any of the main roads. Ashe wanted it that way, a safe haven from prying eyes and nosy townsfolk. Not that any of the locals dared to come within miles of the place, not if they didn't work there.

 

And it was all yours, technically. The land was bought in your name, the business was in your name despite it being run by someone else, even the house was in your name. All Ashe's gift to you. Even if she couldn't be there with you all the time, it was her anchoring promise that she’d always return to you.

 

You knew why she couldn’t stay, of course. It was hard to live along Route 66 and not know of the Deadlock Rebels. Their influence was everywhere. It was a lot of territory to look after, and it kept her busy.

 

So as you and Ginger Root approached the house, you were surprised to see the spread of motorcycles in the driveway. You stared in surprise, a blossom of excitement blooming in your chest as you nudged your mare into a trot.

 

Like a responsible rancher, you took the time to clean Ginger up and make sure she'd stay warm with the other horses in the stable. But the entire time, you could hardly keep still, could hardly keep the smile off of your face. As soon as she was squared away, you all but ran to the main house.

 

Having been out most of the day, the warmth that rushed you inside the door folded around your numb skin like a heavenly blanket. The sound of dishes clattering and a dull din of people talking over each other in the dining room only made you smile wider. You peeked out of the mud room, trying to quietly yank off your boots.

 

A fairly large group of Deadlock Rebels were carting food in from the kitchen, arguing over seating at the long, dining room table. Ashe's voice cut over them all.

 

“No you are  _ not _ sittin’ at the head of the table. That is  _ my _ seat. And take yer damn hat off when yer inside, don't you have any manners?”

 

A few of the gang members sniggered and claimed their seats elsewhere.

 

In the kitchen, you recognized the hulking form of Bob, who was making dinner with quick and efficient ease. You managed to sneak passed the Rebels to his side, placing a soft hand on his arm. Bob looked down at you immediately, eyes lighting up. 

 

“Hey, big guy,” You gave him a bright smile, even more so when he dipped down for a hug. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

 

He shook his head, patting you gently on the back. You knew he was happy to cook.

 

“Bob, d'ya remember where they put those--” Ashe’s heeled boots clicked on the kitchen tiles as she entered, but her words cut off when Bob stepped back, unblocking you from your wife's sight. She lit up twice as much as Bob had. “ _ There's  _ my sugarcube.”

 

You laughed as she snatched you up in her arms, almost lifting you off the floor as you held on tight.

 

“I was startin’ to worry you'd be spending Christmas with Ginger in the scrub lands.”

 

“Nah,” you hummed, voice cracking a little from the days disuse. “I didn't know you'd be here today, though. I woulda been more ready--”

 

Ashe cut you off with a finger to your lips, then a kiss, gentle and full of adoration. You heard a few hoots and hollers from the dining room, but ignored them in favor of melting into your wife's arms. She pulled back only enough to kiss your nose, no doubt leaving a lipstick stain there.

 

“Don't you worry about that none, sugar. I got plenty’a hands on deck to get things straightened up for you. All you gotta do is relax.”

 

And she was right. The small mess you’d just not gotten around to was cleaned up, you even noticed about quadruple the amount of presents under the modest Christmas tree. Dinner was huge and delicious. Ashe sat you next to her at the table and the two of you caught up on the last few weeks between feeding each other and laughing at the gang's rowdy antics. The time apart always melted away when you were together. Her hand found a comfortable home on your thigh, you trapped one of her feet between yours. It was perfect.

 

You tried to help clean up after, but Bob and the rest of the rebels swept everything away, smiling and bickering over the last of dessert. Ashe had something else in mind for you. She led you upstairs to the master bedroom. The bed was still messy from you rolling out of it that morning, but there was now a large, long gift sitting on it, wrapped in sparkling blue paper.

 

“It’s not inappropriate or a secret, I just missed you a whole hell of a lot and I really don’t know how much longer I can resist you, but I also really want you to open this one up first.” 

 

You laughed again, letting her stand behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as you reached for the box. She was so warm behind you, smelling of leather, mink oil, and something warm that dripped heat into your core. Every little kiss she pressed to your head was cherished.

 

A soft chuckle puffed against the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

 

“You gonna open it, sugar? Or would you rather I open you first?”

 

One of her hands slid slowly down your thigh, following the curve forward, trailing close to your heat. A delicious tease through the rough denim of your jeans. You started ripping the paper.

 

Inside was a wooden display box, locked. Ashe produced a small, bronze key for you to open it with. Lifting the lid almost took your breath away.

 

“Is this…”

 

“A nineteen twenty-one Browning automatic rifle? It sure is.”

 

It was in near-mint condition, too. A perfect addition to your rifle collection. You weren’t even embarrassed by your squeal of excitement, turning in your wife’s arms and kissing her face all over.

 

“I love it, Liz. Thank you.”

 

She chuckled, holding you close.

 

“I had your initials engraved on it, probably lowered the value on it quite a lot.”

 

You shook your head and kissed her solidly on the lips.

 

“Not to me.”

 

In the soft lighting of your room, Ashe’s gaze on you seemed even more smitten than usual. It made shyness bubble up in your tummy, but you refused to miss a moment of it.

 

“What is it?” You asked in a whisper.

 

“I’m just appreciatin’ my gift.”

 

You tilted your head slightly, “but I haven’t given it to you, yet.”

 

Her fingers brushed over your cheek. “Sugar, you’ve given me years worth of patience and compromise, with almost no complaints. You’ve made my family bigger in a way I’d never dared to hope for, and you give me more love than I know what to do with.”

 

Her next kiss was lingering, and filled with a thousand words in a language that only the heart knows. 

  
“Now  _ that’s _ what you get the girl who has everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all folks. sorry the last two came with a wait. holidays and all that. hope everyone had a good one! feel free to drop comments!

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what I do and ever want to chat or send me a message, you can find me on  
> twitter- @seamobeemo  
> tumblr- seamonsterink.tumblr.com


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